When I Was Czar

by Arthur W. Marchmont

“That’s the assurance I wished,” said I, and then he went.

I had virtually made up my mind before the Prince left the room, and save for one consideration I should have consented right away. But I could not quite size up the Prince himself.

I was almost British in my distrust of certain classes of Russian officials. I had lived in Petersburg for some years as a boy, and my father, who was at the Embassy, had inculcated this prejudice.

I could never resist the feeling that they had some subtle undercurrent motive which made for duplicity; and I could not now shake myself free from the belief in regard to Prince Kalkov.

I had no tangible reason for it. He stood high in the confidence of the Czar; he had gone out of his way to make himself agreeable to me; he had treated me apparently with signal frankness; and had admitted the possible risks and complications of the very tangled business.

I had another slight qualm. My sympathies were rather with than against the man Boreski. I was not a Russian aristocrat; and from my American point of view I was disposed to admire the pluck of a man who was fighting single-handed against the powerful Russian Court, and giving that autocratic body a real bad time. His methods were not nice, but his adroit use of them was so smart that I could not help enjoying them. Whereas, if it came to a mere question of ethics, I couldn’t see that, taking into account the shady episode of the secret papers, either side had much pull over the other.

What really decided me was my old obligation to the Czar. My inclinations were all on the side of going in for the thing; and probably I gave more weight to that consideration than it deserved. But anyway I convinced myself that I could wipe out the old debt by doing what was asked of me, and when the Prince came back, I met him with the statement that if the details of the thing could be fixed, I was his man.

He was manifestly delighted.

“I cannot tell you what pleasure your decision gives me. We shall now circumvent him completely. This is Boreski,” and he handed me a photograph.

The man was certainly handsome and distinguished-looking. Dark as a raven, with large, deep-set, thoughtful eyes under straight brows, a broad ample forehead, straight nose, very shapely mouth with curved mobile lips, and a narrowing chin.